Tears of Betrayal II: Tales of Tomorrow
by jinxedlies
Summary: Sequel to Whispers in the Dark. Because of that haunting betrayal, will Harry ever be the same? Will he even be able to stay loyal to light? But what other option does he have...?


_Once again, this is just a reedited version. Sorry. I hope to write the third soon (I haven't even started, sorry) but I have no clue which direction this should go. Be well aware that this isn't slash, and that's because I just can't write it. If you want to keep reading this series, I suggest you read the first part(even if you've already read it). I've changed it very slightly. You might not even notice it. However, better safe than sorry._

_2-30-09_

**Tears of Betrayal II: Tales of Tomorrow **

The lone shaggy gray- white wolf meandered through the woods that were beginning to become so familiar to him as of late. Though he knew he could leave at any time, there was always a part of him that told him not to...to stay here, where he was safe from any other contact. A wolf's life was so simple to that of a humans...he now knew exactly why Peter Pettigrew had hidden in his ugly rat form for so long. No one could track him like this...For the first time in his life, there was no one gawking at his scar, or calling him a traitor to the world that had been so willing to take him in.

If not for his constant human side nagging him, he would have been content to stay as a white wolf forever, always staying here in the beloved forest where there was no danger of being caught. The Dementors and Aurors would be looking for a shaggy boy, insane and insecure, not a common white wolf. He couldn't help but pity them. Most of the Aurors counted on catching him to get their salary that would help them just barely make ends meet in their families. Whatever the case, he was not about to let them catch him and let them give him the Dementors Kiss.

The woods he'd been living in for a good year now didn't provide him much anymore though. His sources of living had been cut off as a wolf. Apparently, even mere animals could figure out that there was a powerful being there. One that could jeopardize their lives. He animals population had dwindled to the smallest of zeros and Harry knew he wouldn't be able to stay like this for much longer. He would have to return to the world of humans, but not that of the wizards.

He refused to go back to the world that had condemned him to three and a half lifetimes in Azkaban without even giving his a dose of Veritaserum to prove him non-guilty. They took the law in their own hands-- and manipulated it so he would never see the light of day again. How could he ever go back to a world like that? He would do just as well, if not better, in the muggle world. Sure, he would have to go to college to get anything accomplished in that world, but wasn't it worth it if he didn't have to spend the rest of his time in Azkaban?

It would be easy enough to cover up his true identity. No one would ever be able to force him to show that he was Harry Potter, for no one would ever be able to sense a glamour charm at work. He was a metamorphagus so why should he need charms to change his looks?

He wished it was possible for him to stay in his Animagus form as long, or even longer, than Wormtail had. It would have been perfect if it was possible to stay an animal forever, never having to deal with being caught, killed, tortured...And there was still Voldemort.

He'd been so sure that night that he'd finally ridden the world of the evil Dark Lord, Voldemort and many of the Death Eaters. Everyone had been so sure that The Boy Who Lived had finally fulfilled his destiny, so they'd thrown him away like a used tissue, never wanted again. But they had no idea. They had not idea that it had all been a set-up by Voldemort himself, a clever, yet effective set-up.

He winced as he remembered. It had been late at night, the very next week after Harry had escaped so easily from Azkaban. Though he'd learned Occlumency so well, it didn't seem to be working on his dreams, so that night he had the worst nightmares of his life.

_There was a man in a cloak, face covered entirely by a black hood. A man Harry recognized as Lucius Malfoy was on the ground, bowing deeply. "My Lord," he breathed. It was at that moment that he knew something was wrong. He'd personally seen Lucius die at the hand of his ex-friend, Ron Weasley. "I have news. The boy, Potter, has managed to escape Azkaban."_

_"Ahh, second in history I believe, Lucius, correct?" He gave Malfoy no time to answer. :I am not pleased by this, Lucius, not pleased at all." Harry saw Lucius stiffen in fear. "CRUCIO!"_

Right then. he'd awoken, in his human form. He'd known at that exact moment that the whole world had been mistaken somehow in the battle. They had not battled the true Death Eaters or the true Voldemort. Harry had not killed him. Eventually he would rise again, and everyone would panic, trying to find this new person out. Only Harry would know when it came time for another war...or the ending of the second.

But how had they done it? There were so many Death Eaters, yet somehow they were all impersonated in some way that night of the battle. Harry closed him eyes as he understood. Polyjuice. The battle had been so short...just three hours long. Perhaps Voldemort or Snape had found a way to extend the time...it all made perfect sense to Harry now. The wizarding world wasn't as safe as they thought it was. He had not defeated Voldemort all those years ago. he was alive, and probably hadn't even been at the battle. None of the real death Eaters had.

Yet, Harry didn't care. They had thrown him away once the job was supposedly finished. They didn't think they needed him anymore, so he was going to allow them to keep thinking this, even when the 'new' war arises. He would stick to the muggle world. He would not care what happened to him former friends. He would do what they'd did to him a long time ago.

Betrayal.

Harry let his wolf instinct take over and the weary wolf took him to where the woods ended and the small muggle town began. It was night and a dark one at that. No moon let itself be seen by those below, which suited him rather well. For the first time in nearly a year, Harry changed from him wolf form directly to the Boy Who Lived a.k.a the Boy Who Escaped. Harry knew that with his luck a muggleborn would live in this town and recognize him, so he thought about the new look he'd designed.

He instantly shot up a good four inches...it was the height he was sure he would have been if not for the malnutrition he'd been exposed to for the first ten years of his life at the Dursley's and then the ten years at Azkaban. His hair shortened and changed to a light brown color. The emerald in his eyes faded to a sky blue. His oval face inherited from his father lengthened and thinned slightly, giving him a modest look. He wasn't exactly sure if this was normal enough to be passed off as a muggle, but it was the best one he'd been able to create.

Harry slouched down the rarely used roads, gazing about himself, wishing he'd picked a slightly busier town to live near. It would have to do for now; he would move on soon enough. He wasn't about to stay in one place for longer than he had to. He'd certainly been discovered missing from Azkaban by now, despite the charms he'd put on it shortly before leaving his cell permanently.

Harry wanted more than anything to sleep right now. He wanted to go find a motel—if the town even had one-- and just sleep. In Azkaban he'd never manged to get much sleep with the Dementors prowling around, and the wolf side of him was nocturnal. He hadn't had a decent sleep in eleven years.

But he didn't feel like he could right now. Even in a disguise he was in danger. He was always in danger. 'Is this what Sirius felt like when he ran away? Constant fears that they would find him?' but Sirius had been so smart. He'd picked a goal and followed it through. Sirius had only wanted to protect Harry, and he died doing just that.

Harry sighed and pulled a quill from his tattered robes, along with a piece of old parchment. He was going to sever the last tie he had to the wizarding world right here, so it would all stop. He was endangering himself, but he could hardly care at that particular moment.

_Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort,_ he wrote, knowing the first part would get a rise from Voldemort. Since the man he hated so much was still alive, he might as well admit he knew. After today, he would never have to hear the cursed name again.

_Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort,_

_Your plan worked quite well, and though I'm your mortal enemy, I must say it was clever. How did you think of it? I'm not expecting an answer. After all, you are Voldemort and I'm the rotten Boy Who Lived. Anyway, I've discovered that you are indeed still well alive, as are all the real Death Eaters, and you know what? I don't care._

_You can take over the Ministry, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, and anywhere else that's included in the 'magical' category. You can kill, torture, maim. You see, I'm their Savior. They expect me to save the world. They think I already did. Yet, they still threw me away because of a false crime...a crime I'm sure you set up for this purpose. But I don't hate you anymore. I don't despise your Death Eaters. The world gave up on me because I was already finished fulfilling a prophecy. _

_Don't think I'm a full supporter though. I'm standing off to the sidelines now. You can do what you want to the sorry world I once liked. I won't become a Death Eater, but I'll never help the Light side again. Not unless I feel different in the future. They betrayed me so I'm repaying them in kind._

_I don't plan on coming back to this war inflicted world. Even the muggles believe that there's something up. Or at least they did. You've had a nice eleven years in retreat, waiting for the Ministry to get too comfortable in their shoes. You needn't worry about me ratting you out. I couldn't. I'm an Azkaban convict. I would be thrown back into prison the second I show my face._

_I'm aware that you've probably heard that I'm Mentally Unstable, but I'll reassure you I'm perfectly sane. Or at least, I'm sane enough to be able to escape with my life in tact._

_I'm not a supporter of you, but if the light side does anything like this again, I just might become one. I'm not a supporter of Dumbledore either, so if you do anything to harm me, then I'll have to rejoin that side. As it is now, I'm neutral. _

_Harry Potter, _

_Escapee of Azkaban_

Harry swiftly changed into his hawk form and was instantly regretting doing this. Perhaps there were wards against this sort of thing. He knew where Riddle Manor was perfectly well. The flashes from Voldemort's memory made sure of that, but would he be able to actually get the letter to him. Maybe Voldemort killed every animal that went in with a letter...

He knew he was letting his thoughts overrule true worries. He should be worried about getting caught by Dementors and then receiving the Kiss. In a way, death might be better. Harry shook his hawk head in disbelief. Then, before he could change his mind, he flew into the dark night.

Harry knew the second he arrived on Riddle Manor's property a good thirty minutes later. The whole area said 'death'. The grass was still green, but it was dulling to an ugly gray color. A cemetery filled with graves stood out from below. It took up one third of the yard, and the sight chilled Harry. These weren't all Riddle's family, Harry knew, but other people. People he didn't even know about.

Harry flew in place for a minute, starring at the Manor. He knew that he should be scared; it was the only rational emotion someone could have while looking at a place that practically spelled death. Yet, he wasn't. There was a different feeling in the air. He wasn't even angry at Voldemort anymore. Despite all the things Voldemort had done over the years, Harry no longer felt an ounce of contempt towards his enemy. Now, the idea's Voldemort had made public made some sense. He didn't completely believe the blood thing, but some muggleborns just didn't have what it took to get by a a full witch or wizard. Though they had enough magic to be classified as a wizard, they also _didn't_. There were witches and wizards at Hogwarts that failed every class no matter how much they studied and practiced.

The hawk eyes scanned the manor, looking for an open window, or even better, Voldemort's room itself. As he didn't find one, he became frustrated. He should have sent a regular owl...at least he wouldn't be risking his life! Then there was also the fact that an owl wasn't afraid to smash it's head into a window.

Finally, Harry's Hawk eyes caught sight of a open window on the third floor and instantly flew in that direction. He wanted to get this over with--preferably without getting killed. He landed neatly on the windowsill and went on alert, but realized almost too late that there was indeed someone in the room. "What the--!" The hawks head swiveled around to meet none other than Draco Malfoy, one of the Death Eaters who'd also been supposedly killed that day. Harry had to wonder what it was like to not be able to go out ever...not even in a disguise. It had to be horrible, but Harry wasn't about to place any pity on him. "What's that?" Harry dropped the letter, knowing even Malfoy wasn't stupid enough to try to read Voldemort's mail.

Without another look back, he didn't give Malfoy a chance to fully look at his hawk form, before flying off. He knew that the Death Eater could be trusted for at least this one simple assignment.

When Malfoy bowed and delivered the letter to his Lord, he was only able to tell that the letter made the Dark Lord ecstatic before it burst into flames and fell to the ground in a pile of ashes. Even that didn't rid Voldemort of the sadistic smirk.

"Malfoy," the snake-like man hissed. "Get out before I have the urge to _Crucio_ you."

Draco did just that.


End file.
